


Job Interview

by SunnyD_lite



Category: Firefly (Owned by corporations much bigger than I am)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-07
Updated: 2009-06-07
Packaged: 2017-10-07 17:41:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnyD_lite/pseuds/SunnyD_lite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zoe didn't warm up to people easily. 'Specially those who talked too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Job Interview

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the first drabble for WriterCon100 prompt Thrust. Then it grew.

**Title: The Job Interview**

Not that Wash'd ever tell Reynolds, but he was kinda sweet on Fireflies. Small and responsive, able to maximize their thrust and give him quite the ride.

Plus, despite the first mate's glare, he was coasting on the glow of being recommended. Last time he'd been this sought after it was creditors-- another reason piloting the so-called 'smugglers' dream' appealed.

As to crew, Reynolds seemed easy going enough. Real eager too. Flipping switches and watching screens, Wash tuned into the conversation behind him. He had the captain right where he wanted him. He wondered how he'd convince the warrior woman.

 

**Title: He Talked Too Much**

 

He talked too much. Sounds without much sense burbled and bumbled out from under a ridiculous moustache – she'd always been partial to clean shaven men.

Yet, Zoe saw by the look on the Captain's face that she would be stuck with this 'ace pilot'. It was the same look he'd worn when he'd shown her Serenity for the first time. An odd combination of resolute and pleading, like it was a hurt puppy who'd followed him home.

It wasn't a look a superior officer should ever wear. But, despite being the Captain now, Reynolds was no officer. It might be the reason he survived the war, bodily at least. Her family didn't understand why she was following him still. Why she'd joined his merry band of misfits. To be fair, she wasn't quite sure herself.

"I don't like him." The Captain appreciated plain talk. Not that he'd heed it when he'd set his mind. Watching his reaction, Zoe was sure if she could point to one reason, that...pilot would be off quicker than lizard from a shadow. Unfortunately, her gut wasn't reason enough.

Moments later the Captain had reshuffled the crew one more time, adding what looked like a child as mechanic. But Zoe watched as she fixed three things on her way off the ship and competency was always a welcomed addition.

#

The pilot, call me Wash, never stopped talking. The noise he generated was as loud as the shirts he wore.

He and Kaylee had a memory for ship specs that might be impressive. If they didn't discuss it each and every mealtime. Captain was still big on eating together –"Builds trust Zoe, they need to know we're a crew."—which meant that she either had to forcible tune out the conversation or absorb the information by osmosis. She'd tried, but just as it felt like white noise, he'd change pitch or mention a weapon and her attention would be grabbed. "If you don't like it, you can always introduce a new topic." Reynolds' smirk was his shield against her glare. No need to discuss that idea.

When they were in port, Wash would hang around the gang way, chatting to anyone within shouting range.   
Where were they going? What were they buying? Wasn't the weather nice for once? Questions that didn't need asking and answers which would only buy trouble. She queried the Captain on letting his pilot broadcast intentions. "It's his form of intel," was the response. "Something about updating trade routes." The Captain shrugged. "Don't see the harm myself. We never know where to next, so it's not like there's secrets to be told."

And with that she had to be satisfied. Even as she noticed that the pilot generally engaged the women in conversation; and particular types too. None of her concern as long as he didn't expect them to support his doxies.

After a month, she still didn't see why this pilot was so special. Unless the sheer volume and speed of speech was a new requirement. Zoe's family had been more restrained. Words were spoken when needed, not as a never ending babble. Luckily there were no rations on words or they'd have run short before leaving the first port.

Something about Wash just bothered her.

#

Zoe was in the cockpit scanning the sensors. She'd completed the inventory and finished her PT for the day. Down time was never something she'd craved, and so had taught herself more about the Firefly's systems, just in case. Redundancies were vital in a small crew, even the Captain agreed with that.

Still, although she was on the sensors it was Wash who spotted them first. "Hmm." His briefest monologue all morning. Next thing she heard was a ship wide announcement in a moderate tone. "I'd suggest people strap down. Things are going to get a little interesting."

She spun the seat to face him, but for once his focus wasn't on the toys he'd cluttered on the console or anything beyond his screens.

"Come on baby, I know you can do this," he muttered at a tenth of his usual volume.

Captain came on. "What's up?"

"Not now. Evasive manoeuvres in three two-"

The ship, the one that had been her home for almost a year now, suddenly dove and twisted like it was falling over a cliff. "Never a handy asteroid field when you need one," was all she heard as they headed toward a gas giant.

"Should we—" Zoe started to ask but was cut off by a quick glare unlike any she'd seen from the previously animated pilot. A nanosecond was all he's spared but Zoe found her mouth snapping shut. Who was this man?  
His right hand danced over various controls as his left kept a firm grasp of the yoke.

"Wash!" squawked the speakers. "Report!" Captain hadn't sounded that ruffled since, well never. Captain got smoother as things got rougher. Was just his way. But normal like, he could see the source of that roughness. No wonder he was a mite tetchy. A good 2iC looked out for her Captain, so Zoe forced herself to find whatever had set off their pilot.

"Ai ya hwah li." She grabbed the speaker. "Captain, do you recall how Reaver space ended two systems from here?"

"Reaver Space! What the go tsao de are you on about Zoe?"

"Seems like their expanding their neighbourhood, Sir."

"Are we? I mean?"

"No worries, Captain. Found us a nice little hidey hole just kissing a gas giant. Their ships won't even spot us."

Zoe glanced at the pilot but only saw that the familiar goofy grin was back. "Figure we orbit and once we're on the far side we can shake the dust from our heels." He was leaning back in the chair and had his arms crossed behind his head.

"Did I ever tell you the time I was working a gas grill? First time I had a moustache in fact. First time I burnt off that moustache, what with the owner never maintaining the flow value and it sending up unexpected burst of juice. Just glad the stache caught the worst of it. Olof beside me lost both eyebrows that way and man did we tease him about. "

His words, his on-going distraction of places visited and mishaps lived through flowed effortlessly, but this time they did not eat away at Zoe's calm. He was more than he appeared, this pilot. That's what had been bothering her. She flashed back to the smooth, certain way he'd escaped the verse's worse demons. Flashed back on the motions of his hands, the steel in his glare. He wouldn't talk about what he'd just done. Unlike most who bragged about accomplishments, he was taciturn when it counted and noisy as a magpie about frivolous things. She understood that now.

She didn't mind. Talk wasn't what she was looking for.


End file.
